


Funeral

by prittyspeshul



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Other, it's kind of an everyone/no one in particular POV, no characters are specifically mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 17:47:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4755434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prittyspeshul/pseuds/prittyspeshul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is comfort in routine, and there is comfort in freedom. In between, there is something else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Funeral

There was a moment, just before the curse splintered, a single, isolated second of time when everyone mourned.

Yes, they had all been transported to an unknown land, stripped of their homes, their powers, their memories, their _lives_ , trapped into a nightmarish scheme of unimaginable inanity, playing the same events every day for 28 years—

But there was comfort in that routine: Comfort in not having to face the truth of their choices. Comfort in not knowing that through their actions, they had driven, had turned their mayor (their queen) into the cruel, bitter, lonely persona she deigned to present. Comfort in not knowing who really had control of the strings.  

And though they weren’t the saviors, nor could they have put it into words, each and every person did know exactly what was happening, could still feel it, tiny edges of half-glimpsed pictures around corners or in mirrors, thoughts they didn’t have, fragments of memories glimmering into vivid relief like a mirage before melting away—

They could feel it, a sharpness in the air, a sense of expectancy just as they had felt on that fateful day when Emma had checked out a room at Granny’s, the hovering hush of the clock tower aching to life, bringing along with it their hopes, their triumphs—and their shadows. These shadows danced around them, for some the sudden heat of blossoming intimacy cooling into remembered disgrace; for others, the grain of reminders of promises they had failed to keep; for others, the very real, living and breathing reminder of their sacrifice and what they had missed in a red leather jacket.

So they mourned, deeply, for the lives they had lost. But just for a moment.

Then they turned the page.

**Author's Note:**

> Just an itty bitty little thing I wrote way back.


End file.
